Travis' Playhouse
by Darfur Maxx
Summary: Alfred Alfer falls into Travis' Playhouse, where lots of good fun and bathing will look upon itself and wiggle all ten of its toes while smiling, of course. Don't wonder how the sex got there, in matter of fact. Guest starring the IJN destroyers Ushio and Hamakaze, for extra silliness making forced entry, in fact. Takes place after the cartoon Alfred's Playhouse, by Emily Youcis.


What I want to do the most right now, is to bring your head forward, and crush your neck.

It was night time. It smelled bad here. We were cramped together in a small motel room, out in the middle of nowhere. We both hit rock bottom and already, the thought of suicide has crossed our minds, once or twice. I could tell. Neither of us had a real plan, and neither of us cared. We are now total outcasts, skirting on the brink between civilization and unrepentant, psychotic madness. This is the foundation of all of our ethos for the description of the scenery here. This was what we had left.

We were all that we had, at this point. Just a depressed, mentally ill dog, and a weirdy beardy baby. Just me, and you. Everything else scattered to the wind, as if accelerated by universal atrophy.

Of course, you always thought that it could be worse, in matter of fact.

In fact, I thought, your entire life has been forfeit. Your legacy has crumbled. You are fucked in the head and you will never achieve anything more than sorrow, pity, and despise.

You stopped dreaming.

I said that for the both of us.

I blamed it on the weed, like any good pharmacist would do.

Hey, I had to do _something_ about the smell. It smells fucking terrible here, seriously.

Whatever happened to you?

"I don't know," you say, "that bad group in fact and circumcision at birth of course."

You blame it all on others, you do that yourself.

Fucking goddamed _sitting there_. Looking at me.

Emily didn't do that. But I can't stand her now.

You fucking parasite.

Always fucking afraid.

"I can help you of course," you say with a lisp that feels just a little too sensual, "my good stories are about bathing, castrations, and being perfectly okay with writing about naked children and their bodies all day, in fact, I love it."

I don't. Nobody with half a fucking brain does.

"That is true," my eyes water, and I start to feel like I'm boiling on the inside as you speak, "though I just wanted some help with my stories in fact. A bad guy will be stopped next chapter in fact. He is gay and believes in African culture in fact."

Hey, I know how you can improve your stories. Open up a thesaurus and stop writing with one hand to children's genitals and feet.

Maybe you'll get somewhere for once in your fucking life.

This is getting nowhere.

"You like her," you say.

I'm not letting you finish.

Don't you ever tell me what the fuck I am. Fucking animal piece of shit.

In a more emotional situation, your neck would be crushed between my vengeful thighs. I would snap your beard off with my teeth. I would've positively fucking _destroyed_ you.

But this is not the time for that.

This is not the kind of mindset that I have.

Here's what it is, instead:

I'm sitting at the desk, typing a half assed _Kantai Collection_ story on an old laptop that I'm letting my mind piss all over. This is my piss jug. When I'm done with it, I'm going to put it on the internet, where it will be immortalized for all of eternity, on databases throughout the world. Most people won't read it, since it isn't about their favourite pairing of characters kissing and fucking. It's not about some wrestler or musician or some other pretty boy that magically became so attractive and gay that they seduce the entire male community of their respective franchises, to the joy of hundreds of thousands of fan girls that have gotten off far, _far_ harder to than most quote unquote "Real" pornography. The kind that you pay money for, and listen to older men fondly reminiscence about that one time Linda Lovelace was raped at gunpoint on tape, or however the story went. Yeah, no, I refuse to empathize with these skeevy fuckers. These men, women, and _children for_ _ **fucks sake!**_

Fuck, what in the hell happened with Emily?

Don't even bother finishing that.

Obsessive cunt.

Animal.

Fuck you.

For the record, my name is Alfred. Alfred Alfer. The dog. You know, the one that screams a lot and puts popsicles up my butthole, because of that one time where that thing happened. Not _her_ thing of course, with the one night where her mother was at the hospital. She overcame that ages ago. She's a success story.

What I'm talking about, for myself, was when _that_ happened with, ah, let's say, _Ushio_ and _Hamakaze_. Yep. It was those two. It was them, in the flesh. These two started fucking with me at a more innocent time. Ushio was the older of the two, and Hamakaze was ultimately doing whatever Ushio wanted, and they were both older than me. I don't know if it's normal or not, but they fucking didn't stop until I was a teenager. I secretly hope their eyes rot out of their fucking skulls for what they did to me. They abused me with love. I thought it was all love.

I'm sure you felt the same way too, Emily.

It's the way of the road, after all.

Hamakaze and I gradually drifted apart over the years, both as friends and as . . . that. Ushio, however, was a different story.

Hey, wanna guess what Hamakaze did, search engines? Wanna spice up your dirty ass hentai comics, lolicons? Fucking dirty fuckers that I've been acutely aware of since I was ten. It's far too much, what she ended up doing.

It was really casual, and I felt used and unsatisfied, and also strangely ugly.

Does that get you off?

Ohhh, I _know_ it does. Your imaginations did all of the work for me.

I will never tell you.

I can't get anywhere without tearing myself to shreds. My dreams are utterly beautiful, but completely fucked.

I am no worker. I'm barely able to write a story that was meant to be pumped out in a day, over a course of weeks; over the course of months, even years in some cases.

"Yes of course," you fucking goddamed RUDELY interjected, "the world kept moving of course, while you stopped in matter of fact of course."

You have no right to speak over m-

"Nice try, but you will not escape this," you say with a smug, creepy grin, and the whole world spins before my eyes, "bath time for you now, of course."

And then it happened. Just like you said it would.

* * *

I'm now in that one room, from so long ago. And I'm with them.

Ushio and Hamakaze didn't want to let me in at first. I was lonely, though, and I loved them. I wanted to spend time with the ones I loved. Eventually, I got my way, and next thing I knew, I was sitting in the corner, watching them take pictures of each other naked. I was only a child. I didn't really understand this, or why they were so insistent on doing it. But we were all together. There was no bath, there was none that I want you to see.

Ushio loved me more than Hamakaze.

She loved me more than I feel like I ever have loved myself.

I loved that cocoa puffs cereal as a child. I liked it when she gave me some. We were giggling in the hallway. Then she told me that her nipples tasted like that, too. It didn't make sense, but I did it. I sucked on her breasts. Ushio, the one that loves me the most. The one that wanted me to. She wouldn't have let me if she didn't want me to. I wouldn't have done it if she didn't ask me to.

She tasted nothing like the cereal.

Not that long before that, she took me outside one day, out of the house. She had another excuse, another reason to do what she did. Rugrats. Because toddlers unite, or something.

Ushio kissed me, actually, deeply, _kissed me_. It happened in the driveway. I was only eight, and she made sure that I learned it well. That's the trick. I didn't feel bad.

I felt good.

It felt _good_ to be with them.

It just kept happening.

It must've grew, because it became normalized. Countless nights that I don't want to talk about that much, because it could destroy us.

At least this was fictional.

It just had to be.

Our demons, however, aren't.

I was now around ten. I was hopelessly in love with Ushio at this point. She was my home away from home. I loved being with her so much. Even now, it's still there. I hate it, despise it, but it is there, and it still loves me. Even when it stopped, years back.

Keep in mind that we're both fictional characters, doing fictional things, in a fictional story that clearly didn't happen. Because real life is better than this.

Real life hurts more than this. It still hurts to this day.

We were in the same room together, my room this time. Hamakaze wasn't there, she was doing whatever Hamakaze does, and not being tied up in this web of seduction, lies, and guilt; this web that I found myself in.

We were watching _Crocodile Hunter_ on the TV.

I got to feel her up during the commercial breaks. I wanted it at this point.

Stop.

Ushio liked the attention, otherwise she wouldn't allow this. Stop this, please.

I didn't say stop, though.

I told her to suck my penis, instead.

She didn't accept, at first. It was a boundary that was yet to be crossed.

I asked her again. I didn't know why I was doing this, but I kept asking for it. I don't remember where I've got it from. It's been so long, I can't even remember when I forgot what it was.

Then she said yes.

She had me lie on the bed, with my hands behind my head. I watched as she had me naked on the bed, she was right there, facing me. Looking at me.

She kissed it once.

She kissed it again.

Then, on the third kiss, she started taking it in.

Up and down, up and down.

Time felt like it collapsed on itself, unable to process what was happening.

She loved me so very much, and I was so close to her.

She moved faster, harder. _Deeper_. I wanted it more and more.

Up and down, I felt hotter each time she bobbed her head. Looking at me. I love it when she looks at me.

I love it.

"I love it," you say, "you have a nice looking penis in fact."

STOP.

"That I won't" you say, "your big and long penis looks good with Ushio's teenaged mouth wrapped around it of course, it is an attractive child penis, indeed."

I don't want this, STOP!

STOP LOOKING AT ME!

Ushio just kept looking at me. Bobbing her head up and down. She didn't stop.

"She can't stop of course," you say, "this has already happened in matter of fact. You asked for it, in fact, you are naked."

No, that's not true! We didn't know what we were doing-

"You have a nice penis," you say, "it's even better than Bud's, since you're six years older than him of course, seeing that he is four."

I don't want to be seen like this. Not by anybody, not by YOU. I'd rather die! I WANT TO DIE!

STOP!

 _PLEASE_ STOP!

"I sure love being a boy," you say, "after all, a penis can be fun in fact."

Ushio kept doing it, and I couldn't make it stop.

No matter what happened, I could never make it stop.

No matter what happened, she will always love me.

I laid there. I tried to close my eyes, pretend that I wasn't there, but your bearded visage half-lidded in ecstasy was all I could see. I opened my eyes and looked at Ushio. She had an emotion on her face that I didn't yet understand, one that looked a little like she both loved and hated doing this.

Unlike me, Ushio knew exactly what she was doing.

And exactly who she was doing it with.

Ushio loves me.

She's looking at me, but this time, I see the tears in her eyes. The ones that I didn't see her shed that night, as she bobbed her head up and down. Looking at me.

Why else would she keep doing this to me?

I wish I could make it stop.

Please make it stop.

I don't want to do this anymore.

No matter what you've done to me, I'll always say that I'm sorry for it all.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, Ushio, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

"Don't be sorry." Ushio said, her face was now close to mine, with her body on top of mine, and she's hugging me tightly. She wasn't doing it anymore. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

I wrapped my arms around her. I didn't even care that you could see everything that you wanted to see. I moved my head to her shoulder, burying my face in her black hair.

"I can never take it back. Never." she said, sobbing as she spoke. "I've done _terrible_ things to you. I lied to you. I hit you. I _molested you_ . . . I was supposed to protect you. That's what's supposed to happen. Not this."

I'm so sorry for all this.

"Alfred, you did absolutely nothing wrong. You were a child. A pre-pubescent _child_. You didn't have a clue what was happening. I'm supposed to _protect_ you . . . It's my fault. I only ended up hurting you. You're my sweet baby Alfie. My Alfie."

I was about to speak, but she just held me even closer. I let it happen, like I always do.

"I love you, Alfred."

I looked at her face. She was crying more than ever, but now she seemed almost happy. I hated seeing her suffer, no matter the reason. I barely even felt my own tears leaking out. This is my abuser. My friend. My other half. She felt like a part of me, just like I do to her. We were so much alike, it's insane. She looked me in the eyes.

We both knew this would be for the last time we would ever see each other like this again.

I love you too, Ushio.

Then, I felt something invasive and itchy crawling around me. I looked at it, and it was your beard digging itself into my flesh, hooking into the skin and fur, dragging me away from her at an increasingly fast rate, bringing me to a place that's worse than death. Ushio called out my name—no, she _screeched_ it—as I was lifted away from the one respite that I found in this hell.

If I ever see you again, I want you to know that I- I-

"Time now to take you back now," you say, laughing hysterically as you did so, "to the Playhouse that is, in fact."

 _OH GOD NO!_

"Next chapter will be more bathing and such. Not sexual of course. Emily Youcis will be there of course in fact. I will need some ideas for the next chapter here please. See what happens next chapter of this story here of course. Not sexual in fact."

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
